


Manhattan Gamestop - Polygon Cyberpunk Red Band AU

by peach_pot



Category: Let's Play Cyberpunk Red - Polygon (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peach_pot/pseuds/peach_pot
Summary: Burger Chainz, Vang0 Bang0, and Dapper Dasha are all in a band together.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20





	1. Hypo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burger Chainz, Dapper Dasha, and Vang0 Bang0 are all on their way to their first gig at Hypo's place.

Dasha had been waiting for this night ever since Hypo mentioned that if her band got big enough, they’d be able to play at his venue. Ever since they formed the band. Ever since she first found herself at Hypo's. Hypo was a nice guy, especially when you were as close with him as Dasha was, and he said anyone with enough fans to sell at least a handful of extra tickets was allowed to open for a band playing his venue whenever a slot was available, and Dasha, Vang0, and Burger’s band was finally at a point where Hypo offered that opportunity to them after one of the supporting acts for tonight's show canceled. 

They were by no means a well-known band. They’d only been together for around a year, but through a combination of Dasha’s management of the band and Vang0’s online following, they’d amassed enough vocal fans that Hypo could be sure they’d sell at least a few extra tickets as an opener.

“Our first real show!” Vang0 raved from the back seat of the van.

“Well, this isn’t our first show Vang0. What about all those gigs we did at that fancy bar a few blocks from Dasha’s?” Burger said.

“Those don’t count. No one had to buy tickets for those, people just happened to be in the bar while we were playing. This time it’s real and there will be real fans of mine there.”

“Ours,” Dasha corrected.

“Same thing.”

“But you are right, Vang0,” Dasha said, shifting around in her seat to look back at him. “This is our first proper concert which means we need to know what we’re doing. Tonight could bring us one step closer to fame if we play our cards right.”

“Is someone gonna be filming us?” Vang0 asked, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“Not professionally no, but that doesn’t mean someone in the crowd might not be.”

“We really need to hire someone to stream all our gigs. It’s important to give our online fans regular content.”

“They can always come to the show if they really want content. Now listen, Vang0, I need you to really interact with the crowd this show alright? Get them excited!”

“Like how I talk on my streams, right?”

Dasha had had this conversation with Vang0 countless times. He was the singer in the band so he had basically become the face of the group even though Dasha was the closest thing they had to a leader. She kept trying to get him to see the importance of in-person interactions with fans and how it differed from his streams and servers and social media accounts.

“Not quite Vang0. We need them to get really pumped to see us. We want them to get excited enough that we’re memorable even after they’ve seen the main band perform.”

“Who is that again?” Burger asked from the driver’s seat. 

“Only the best band in this whole city,” Vang0 said, leaning forward between Dasha and Burger’s seats. “M House just started on their first national tour and they’ve got, like, millions of subscribers on their youtube channel.”

“Wowee, they must be pretty good then, huh?”

“They’re insanely good. I did tons of covers of their songs when I first started playing, but they never watched any of them even though I sent the links to their Instagram multiple times.”

“Well, I bet they’ll see ‘em one day buddy.”

“Can we focus, please?” Dasha finally interrupted. “Yes, M House is talented and very well known, which is why it’s important we make a lasting impression on their audience tonight. If we get popular among some of their fans that could lead to us growing in popularity just like they did.”

“Do you think they’d let us keep opening for them if we got popular?” Vang0 asked.

“If we get popular, we’ll be able to have our own concerts at Hypo’s. We won’t just be openers.”

That got Vang0 excited. “What do I need to do again?”

“Talk to the crowd before songs, get them moving, make a lasting impression.”

“And how do I do that?”

Dasha sighed. How many times would they need to have this conversation before he figured it out? They’d talked about it nearly a dozen times since she first got the invitation to open for M House from Hypo, but it never seemed to stick in his brain. 

Ever since they started the band he’d always seemed a bit more focused on their online presence than anything else, but at the end of the day what Vang0 wanted was to be popular, online and in real life. He wanted fame just as much as Dasha did. They just had different approaches on how to achieve it.

To his credit, the fans they made through their youtube channel and other social media were the most devoted ones they had at the moment. They’d only released a few stray songs so it was hard to really get their name out there without Vang0 Bang0’s online expertise. 

Even so, the few gigs Dasha had managed to get them before now, even if small and underwhelming, were important. They gave them more experience performing in front of a live audience. Besides, she was really the only one out of the three that knew where to go and who to talk to in order to play for an audience of more than a few people. She was the one who knew Hypo well enough to be invited to play at his venue, and she already had a list of people she’d call to try scheduling more gigs if this performance went well enough to get their name out there.

While Burger Chainz wasn’t so helpful on the technical side of things, he was no less important to the group as a whole. He was the one who really convinced the others to start the band with him in the first place. He was always responding to fans’ comments online, thanking those who actually purchased the songs they’d released, and chatting with people who saw them playing in bars or open mics enough to get them to look up the band later. He moved all their instruments and gear around and everyday the group was more thankful for his van, which he’d named Keanu Reeves, for being able to so easily transport their speakers and instruments and selves wherever they were needed. 

Whenever Vang0 and Dasha were feeling low, Burger was able to raise their spirits enough to keep them all going. He was the emotional glue that kept the whole band from falling apart on bad days.

They all had their specific roles in the band and for the most part, miraculously, it worked, and things ran as smoothly as they could.

As Dasha talked Vang0 through possible ways he could engage with the crowd on stage, they got closer and closer to their destination. Just before they arrived she made sure to remind Burger to make a good impression on Hypo.

“You’re the only one out of us who hasn’t met Hypo before. He’s a good guy, but when you’re one of his friends he’s especially kind to you. If he likes all three of us that could be really helpful.”

“Vang0 and Hypo are friends?” Burger asked.

“They’re… well, Vang0 and Hypo are as close as they’ll ever be. They’re close enough to friends.”

Vang0 was never a social butterfly. It’d taken him and Dasha nearly a full year to become friends after they first met. It didn’t take quite so long with Burger Chainz but there were very few people in the world that it took Burger more than a handful of days to befriend.

“Well, don’t you worry Dasha, I bet Hypo and I will get along well,” Burger said as they turned into the parking lot of Hypo’s place.

“I know you will,” Dasha said, giving Burger a smile. She didn’t think it was possible for someone to hate Burger Chainz. She’d known him since they were kids, and she couldn’t even begin trying to imagine a time before they were friends. He was like a brother to her.

Once the van was parked, Burger grabbed his guitar and a bag containing their merch, which, for the time being, was limited to pins and stickers featuring their band’s logo, designed by Vang0 himself. They all stood outside the van as Dasha went over everything again, just to be safe. 

“Alright remember: the most important thing is for us to make a lasting impression here, both on Hypo and the audience.”

“And M House,” Vang0 added.

“Yes, and M House.”

“And the most important thing is to have fun,” Burger said, giving his pals a cheesy thumbs up.

Dasha nodded. “Alright. Let’s head in.”

Stepping into Hypo’s always felt like entering a separate dimension, a place where time stood still until you were ready to leave, where everyone inside was there for a reason and everyone you met you met because the universe wanted it that way. The place wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to contain a sizeable stage, a bar, an area for merch stands, and a floor with enough space for a crowd of fans. There was no crowd here now though, the doors wouldn’t open for another hour, but Hypo and his employees were around. Hypo was on stage helping set up with a few stray folks unfamiliar to both Dasha and Vang0 that they assumed were roadies for M House. There were employees Dasha recognized behind the bar, all either cleaning or on their phones. A couple of them smiled her way, and she gave them a wave. 

“Dapper Dasha! Vang0 Bang0!” Hypo was already on his way over to them. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Great to see you too Hypo,” Dasha said.

“So glad to finally have you playing here,” Hypo said.

“So glad to finally be playing here.” Dasha turned to her right, where Burger was standing. “I know you and Vang0 have already met. This is our guitarist, Burger Chainz.”

“Ah, the famous Burger. These two mention you quite a lot.”

“Awe, well, that’s very kind of them. It sure is nice to finally meet ya Mr. Hypo,” Burger said, extending his hand out.

“I hear you’re the one who got this whole band together,” Hypo said giving Burger a quick handshake.

“Oh, I suppose I did, but Dasha’s the one who first came up with the idea, I just got us all on board.”

“Vang0 Bang0, I’m also in the band,” Vang0 said. “I play the keyboard. And keytar soon. I’m still learning, I just got it.”

“Oh, you’ll have to break out that keytar here sometime in the future.”

“I will,” Vang0 said.

Hoping to give Burger and Hypo a chance to talk and become friends on their own, Dasha had Vang0 Bang0 come with her backstage. After getting Vang0 to stop insisting they go find M House’s tour van in order to introduce themselves, he started helping her with her makeup, something he’d been doing ever since they realized just how much better he was at it than she. He tried to convince her to let him apply bright green eyeliner but settled for a dark blue, which was about the brightest shade she was willing to use.

When Burger eventually joined them backstage he recounted his conversation with Hypo and it was clear that he’d had no problem getting on his good side.

“Great job, Burger,” Dasha said. “Now, Hypo has a little table set up next to M House’s that we can spread our merch out on. Before and after the show Burger will man the table, and while we’re playing, one of the people working the M House merch stand will watch our stuff.”

“Why can’t we just hire someone to sell our stuff for us?” Vang0 asked.

“We can do that once we get more cash Vang0. For now, it’s easier to have Burger do it.”

“And it’s really no hassle. I like talkin’ with the customers anyways,” Burger said.

“M House’s keyboard and drum set are both already on stage for us to use; they should be doing a sound test soon to make sure everything is in order. You’ll have to go plug in your guitar then Burger so they can test that too.”

“Can do!”

“We’ve got about an hour and a half before we go on.”

But time flies. As Vang0 finished Dasha’s makeup and streamed his "pre-show routine", Dasha talked to Hypo and made sure things were going as planned, and Burger set up their merch table, helped with the soundcheck, and chatted with the M House roadies. The time ticked by and sooner than any of them expected there was a crowd of people inside the building waiting for someone to come on stage and start playing. Waiting for M House. Waiting for them.

Right before they went on, Dasha got them into a huddle.

“Alright. How are we feeling guys?”

“I’m feeling fantastic Dasha! How ‘bout yourself?” 

“I’m ready to go. Vang0?”

“I’m nervous but excited.”

“Okay. Remember, all these people are here to see us perform.”

“Or to see M House perform,” Vang0 said.

“Right. But they’ll be excited to see us perform too. So we need to show them their excitement isn’t for nothing.”

“And even if we forget all our songs and they hate us, the most important thing for us to do is have fun, right Dasha?” Burger asked.

“You think they’ll hate us?” Vang0 asked.

“No! None of that will happen alright? Just-” Dasha could hear the crowd cheering as the start of the concert grew closer. “-do your best.”

“And?” Burger prompted.

“And have fun.”

“Hell yeah! Now on three!” Burger said.

They all put their hands together, counting down from three, and all saying different things at the end of the countdown. 

It was time to go.

As they stepped out onto the stage, the crowd roared to life. The lights shining in their eyes made it hard to make out individual faces, but it was clear that the place was packed. Dasha settled at the drums, taking her drum sticks and quickly testing out a simple rhythm. Everything felt like it was in her control when she was sitting here. She was ready.

Burger slung his guitar around his shoulder, beaming out at the crowd, and flashing Dasha a thumbs up. Vang0 stood at the keyboard at the front of the stage, letting his hands rest on the keys and lining his face up with the mic. He glanced at Dasha, who gave him a nod.

He looked back at the crowd. “Hi, I’m Vang0 Bang0,” he said, making his initials with his hands as he did in all his vlogs. The crowd cheered, a few, who must have been regular viewers of his, noticeably louder than the rest.

“And this is our band,” he gestured to Dasha and Burger. A few more stray cheers. Dasha prayed that he’d say something even a little more exciting.

“And we’ve got some songs to play for you.”

Dasha couldn’t help but take over. She wasn’t sure how well the audience would hear her without a mic so she screamed as loud as she could. “ARE YOU GUYS READY TO HEAR SOME SONGS?”

The crowd went wild. She wasn’t great at this herself, but she was better than Vang0 on his own.

“HOW ARE YOU GUYS DOING TONIGHT?” Burger yelled, wanting to be a part of the audience interaction.

The crowd cheered back at him and he smiled wider. “Well, you all sure are nice!”

Despite the whole audience interaction thing going just about as poorly as it could have, the crowd seemed excited. Apparently his bandmates joining in was what Vang0 needed to get things moving. “We are Manhatten Gamestop! We hope you enjoy our performance even if you’re just here for M House!”

Dasha would have to tell him not to use that line at future shows later. For now, with the crowd’s cheers fueling them, they dived into their first song, their energy bouncing off the walls and filling the room to the brim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mostly an introduction to the AU idea so hopefully, if I write more for this AU it'll be more interesting. This is the first time I've ever posted fanfiction I've written anywhere online so I'm a little extremely terrified, but I hope you enjoyed it. I have a lot more ideas to write for this AU, especially when it comes to the backstory of how they all met and started the band together, so if you wanna see that leave a comment or something.  
> Oh and thank you to @dukeborninfebruary on Tumblr for giving me the idea for a band AU in the first place.


	2. Fake ID

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hearing Vang0 Bang0 and Burger Chainz play a song Vang0 wrote, Dapper Dasha mentions that they sound like they could be in a band together, and Burger immediately latches onto the idea. AKA the story of how the band first started.

Dasha was sitting on the floor of Burger and Vang0’s apartment, texting back and forth with a friend of hers whose restaurant’s soda machine was busted. They knew Dasha would be able to fix it by opening time tomorrow, but they were intent on getting her to do it for free as a friendly favor, and Dasha was trying her best to get them to pay her for the job. Her time and effort were most certainly worth at least minimum wage, and she could use the cash. She was working a couple of low paying jobs at the moment, so any time she found an opportunity to make an extra buck to put towards rent at the end of the month, she’d take it. It was either that or accept the fact that she might have to move back in with her folks if she fell on hard times, which was the last thing she wanted. She just needed to get by until she was able to start making a name for herself on her own.  


But alas, this friend of hers was stubborn, and it was taking a lot more convincing than expected to get them to pay for her services instead of expecting her to work for free just because they were pals (which, seeing how the interaction was going so far, they might not be for long).  


“So I’m just sittin there mindin’ my own business, enjoyin’ a drink at the bar, when I see this nice lookin’ fella walk up to this gal a few stools to my right,” Burger said to Dasha, who was paying just enough attention to follow the story. “At first he seems harmless enough, but I can tell this lady ain’t here to meet some guy. He doesn’t catch on though and keeps pesterin’ her, offerin’ to buy her drinks and what-not. Even after this gal’s told him outright that she ain’t particularly interested, he keeps goin’. Now that I know this fella ain’t dense, he’s just an asshole, I have no problems walkin’ up to him and givin’ his a good shove.”  


Dasha nods as she sends a final offer to her soon-to-be-former friend, saying either they can pay her properly for the job or fuck off. It’s a bit harsh, but she’s not in the mood to keep talking with them, especially because she came to Burger and Vang0’s place with the intent to relax after a long week, not go back and forth with an entitled restaurant owner.  


“That didn’t seem to make this fella too happy. Now he’s yellin’ at me and at the girl and the bartender, no concern for all the other patrons in the bar just trying to have a drink or two. So I decide the best thing to do is to punch him right in between the eyes, which I’ve found is a pretty effective way to get fellas like that to shut up.”  


“You punched the guy?” Dasha asked, finally ending the conversation after getting a very colorful text back.  


“Sure did. Weirdly enough it just made him angrier.”  


“Did you get in trouble?”  


“Nah. The bartender and I are pals so she let it slide. The guy got kicked out though after he tried to swing back at me,” he said.  


“He didn’t hit you did he?” Dasha said. If this guy did anything to hurt Burger he would have more problems than being kicked out of a bar coming his way.  


“Nah, I dodged out of the way alright. I’m not really in the market for another scar,” he said, running his hand along the one already occupying a large portion of his jaw, the one he’d gotten after being kicked in the face by a donkey on his folks’ farm.  


“Everyone shut up a second,” Vang0 said.  


He’d been jotting lyrics and chords down in a notebook while singing under his breath and tapping out melodies on his keyboard for the past hour or so. These days he seemed to spend more time writing songs that he did anything else. He’d only had his keyboard for a year and a half, but in that time he’d gotten so good one might assume he’d been playing since he was a kid. Music and songwriting were some of the first things he got into after waking up with no memories several years back, and ever since then, he’d dedicated almost the entirety of his spare time to improving his musical talents (that and building his online following, of course).  


Dasha and Burger knew to be quiet when he asked them to be and immediately paused their conversation. Vang0 flipped through his notebook for a moment before propping his phone up in front of him and starting a recording. He formed his initials, quickly muttering his name, and placed his hands on the keys. After taking a deep breath, he started playing.  


It was clearly an unfinished piece (Vang0’s songs always involved far more complicated rhythms on the piano), but the simple chords got the message across. When he started singing along with them everything seemed to come together. He had a natural gift for knowing what melodies and what chords would produce the sound he wanted and complement the meaning behind his lyrics.  


You could tell that he wrote most of his songs for himself. Of course, he always shared what he’d written online, spreading it as far as he could in hopes of finding a loyal fanbase, but his lyrics were usually about experiences he’d been through and feelings he felt. He never wrote his songs in an attempt to appeal to the masses. They were personal. Decoding the message of this particular tune wasn’t impossible for Burger and Dasha though. It was about how he first felt after waking up in that hospital all those years ago. No memory, no family, just a friendly stranger with a huge scar on his face helping Vang0 get back on his feet. A lot of his songs were about that. This one was considerably happier than most, focusing on the excitement that came from figuring out who he was and who he wanted to be with a new friend by his side.  


“Oh!” Burger exclaimed about a minute into Vang0’s recording, jumping up off the floor where he had been sitting next to Dasha and rushing to the wall where his guitar was currently hanging.  


He took it off, slinging it over his shoulder and settling back down next to Dasha, and excitedly asked Vang0 what the chords he was playing were. Vang0 told him what chords he’d need to play and when, suggesting he try out a specific strumming pattern when they got to the end of the song, and Burger tested each chord out before giving Vang0 a thumbs up. He started playing again.  


Now, with Burger and Vang0 both playing, the song felt fuller. The sound filled the room as each one focused on making sure to get the chords right and staying in time with each other. Despite knowing that Vang0 must still be adding to this song, it sounded amazing already, and Dasha couldn’t help but wish she too was recording so she’d be able to listen to her friends playing together whenever she wanted to.  


After the last notes were played and the last lyric was sung, Vang0 stopped his recording. “Thanks, Burger,” he said, grabbing his phone and playing back the recording. “You did just what I wanted you too.”  


“Awe, thank you, pal, I’m just glad I got to play one of your new songs with you. Usually, you don’t let me join in unless you’ve already written out a full part for the guitar.”  


“That is the full part for the guitar,” Vang0 said.  


“Oh alright! A little simpler than the stuff you usually write, but I think it sounded nice with the song.”  


“Yeah. I might change it later,” Vang0 said, paying far more attention to his recording than anything else, making little notes in his journal as he watched it through.  


“You guys sound like you could be in a band together,” Dasha said.  


Burger’s smile nearly doubled in size. “That sure would be swell, Vang0, don’t ya think?”  


“Yeah, I guess,” Vang0 said, still focused on his video. “Except all my songs have drums so we’d need a drummer which we don’t have.”  


“I could learn the drums!” Burger said.  


“Who would be playing guitar then?” Vang0 asked.  


“Also me?” Burger offered, receiving a confused look from Vang0.  


“You do know that I took drum lessons for nearly 10 years, right?” Dasha asked.  


Vang0 finally pulled his attention away from the recording. “What?”  


“Oh, yeah, I remember that! It was the only instrument you were willing to learn when your folks made you pick one for music lessons. You were pretty good back then.”  


“You’ve been able to play drums this whole time and you never told me?” Vang0 asked.  


“You never asked. And it’s been a while, I doubt I’m very good anymore.”  


“Still! It’ll take a lot less time for you to relearn them than for someone else to learn with no experience,” Vang0 said.  


“Well, we’ve gotta form a band now!” Burger said. “This is all just workin’ out too perfectly not to.”  


“I didn’t mean to suggest we actually start a band, Burger, I was just complimenting your playing,” Dasha said.  


“Which was very kind of you, but now you have to start a band with us, Dasha. It’s fate.”  


“No, we can’t form a band together,” Vang0 said, shaking his head. “I’m already trying to get myself out there as a solo artist, I don’t need bandmates.”  


“But just imagine it Vang0! We’d get to play songs together and hang out all the time, and you could play all the songs you’ve written live without havin’ to hire people to play the guitar and drum bits for ya. Plus, the singer in the band is always the favorite.”  


Vang0 paused for a moment, wheels turning in his head. “Alright, I’m in.”  


“You’re in?!” Dasha said.  


“But only if we have a cool enough band name.”  


“We can’t just form a band out of nowhere,” Dasha said.  


“Why not, Dasha? All the best bands are formed with a group of pals lookin’ to have some fun! Plus, if we ever grow enough to get some cash from this you could quit one of your jobs. Maybe even both.”  


Dasha had to admit the idea of being able to quit her jobs was appealing, especially when she’d be playing music with her two closest friends for a living.  


“Alright. Band name: The Vang0 Bang0s.”  


“I love it!” Burger said at the same time as Dasha said: “Absolutely not.”  


“Come on, that name is good!”  


“You can’t name our whole band after yourself, Vang0,” Dasha said.  


“Does that mean you’re agreeing to be in the band?” Burger asked, latching onto Dasha’s arm in excitement.  


“How about Vang0 Bang0 and the keyboard?”  


“Now it’s just named after you and your instrument. You do understand there are more people in the band besides yourself.” Dasha said.  


“Does that include you, Dasha?” Burger asked, shaking Dasha’s arm.  


“Well, if you don’t like any of my band names, why don’t you come up with your own?” Vang0 asked.  


“This isn’t the sort of thing I can just come up with on the fly, Vang0. I don’t even know exactly the type of music we’d play.”  


“We!” Burger nearly shouted. “That means you’re officially in the band!” Burger popped up off the floor and started pacing around the room, grinning from ear to ear. “Alright, if we’re doing this we’ll need gear. Dasha do you have your own drum set?”  


“No, I haven’t really played since I left home.”  


“Oh! I think I’ve got a guitar center gift card in my wallet. It’s only got about 10 bucks on it, but it’s a start,” Burger said, running to a backpack in the corner of the room Dasha assumed his wallet must be in.  


“Okay, here me out: The Vang0 Bang0s.”  


“That’s just the first name you suggested, Vang0!” Dasha said.  


“This isn’t easy, okay? I mean, you still haven’t come up with a single one.”  


“Okay, okay, how about…” Dasha tried her best to think of something catchy. “The Dapper Division.”  


“That one has your nickname in it! Now, who’s naming the band after themselves?” Vang0 said.  


“Fine, it’s not as easy as it seems.”  


“How do y’all like the sound of Manhattan Gamestop?”  


Vang0 and Dasha both turned to Burger, confused. He pulled what seemed to be a fake ID from his wallet, bringing it close enough so that his friends could both read the name Manhattan Gamestop printed on it.  


“Burger, why do you have a fake ID?” Dasha asked.  


He shrugged. “Manhattan Gamestop isn’t banned from Applebees.”  


As Dasha tried to piece together why on eath Burger was banned from Applebees, Vang0 chimed in: “I think that sounds pretty cool.”  


“Hell yeah!” Burger Chainz said, offering Vang0 a high five which he quickly took.  


“Are we seriously going to be naming our band after Burger’s shitty fake ID?” Dasha asked as the other two looked at her expectantly.  


“Doesn’t it sound cool though?” Vang0 asked.  


Dasha paused. “... Maybe a little.”  


“It’s decided then! We are Manhattan Gamestop!” Burger Chainz said, pumping his fists in the air.  


“I haven’t even technically agreed to be in the band yet,” Dasha said. “I still think you guys are getting yourselves into more than you realize.”  


“Come on Dasha, we’re gonna need someone who knows what they’re doin’ to manage everything. Plus, we really do need a drummer.”  


Both Vang0 and Burger were staring at her now, Burger with just about the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage. She smiled.  


“Alright, I’ll be in the band. But first things first, we need to start saving to buy me a drum set, and you guys can’t expect me to be as good as I used to be overnight. It’ll probably take a while-”  


“Take as long as you need Dasha!” Burger Chainz said, pulling his two pals into a hug and lifting them both up off the ground while doing so. “This is gonna be so much fun!”  


After a few moments Vang0 insisted Burger set them both down so he could get back to working on his song, but for the rest of the night, and for many nights to come, the only thing that would be on any of their minds was the band they’d just decided to form. Burger was right. It was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like the non-chronological format because a lot of the ideas I have for this AU are set way before the first chapter, lots before the band was even formed. This AU is giving me loads of motivation to write, so hopefully, more will come real soon. It's wild to see people actually reading the first part, especially since it's the first thing I've ever posted to ao3.  
> The next stuff I write might end up being character backstories, specifically how the three of them met each other and became friends. If that sounds interesting to you feel free to let me know in the comments :0)


	3. Mango's Grave: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dasha and Burger met when Dasha was nine and Burger was six and grew up side by side.

Burger Chainz had always been a friendly guy. Ever since he was little he moved through the world with a warm smile and open arms, ready to welcome anyone into his life with kindness. He was born on a farm in Bozeman, Montana, and was cared for by two loving parents who raised him to treat others the way he wanted to be treated. And so he did. 

He grew up surrounded by family. He would regularly visit his cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and any other person who grew up in his family tree. His parents’ farm was considerably out of the way from the area most folks lived in, so Burger grew up knowing very few people that he wasn’t related to or that didn’t visit the farm. On top of this, he was homeschooled so, despite his friendliness, Burger had very few friends. That is, besides a girl a few years older than him named Dasha.

Dasha and Burger first met when Dasha was nine and Burger was six. Their parents had known each other since they were not much older than them, and even though they had little in common as adults, they were still close. Burger and his folks had invited Dasha and hers to visit their farm for a weekend, in part so both couples could catch up, but also so Burger and Dasha could be introduced to each other. 

As soon as Dasha’s parents introduced her to Burger, he ran up to her, nearly toppling her over as he hugged her. Burger’s parents apologized to Dasha, saying that Burger just had a lot of love to give, but she didn’t mind. Burger told Dasha that day as they were playing tag outside that they would be best friends. And they would.

* * *

Dasha and Burger were bouncing up and down, giggling as they kept an ear out to make sure no feet were coming up the stairs to tell them again that jumping on the bed wasn’t allowed. After a long stretch of time spent trying to see who could shove the other off the bed first (Dasha always won that game), they both fell down onto their backs, staring at the ceiling stars cluttering Dasha’s room.

“How long do you get to stay over, again?” Dasha asked.

“Just for tonight. I have chores I need to get done at home.”

“What kinda chores?”

“It’s my job to take care of the baby donkey. I wash her and feed her and everythin’. Also if I’m gone too long the dog misses me.”

“You have to take care of the donkey all on your own?” Dasha asked.

“Well, Mama helps with lots of stuff, but I’m in charge of making sure everything gets done. It’s not so bad, though. She’s real nice.”

“I didn’t have any chores when I was your age.”

“Well, you don’t have a Donkey either,” Burger said.

“I guess not.”

Burger was back to jumping on the bed already. He never seemed to run out of energy, both as a kid and when he got older. He jumped as high as he could before landing on his back again, which got a laugh out of Dasha. 

“I wish you went to school with me,” Dasha said. “That way I could see you all the time like my school friends.”

“What’re your school friends like?” Burger asked.

“I don’t know. They’re not as nice as you.”

* * *

Burger was lying on the floor, watching Dasha as she practiced drums for the day. She’d been taking lessons for nearly three years now. In Burger’s eyes, she was the most talented musician of all time. She was good, but she was only able to practice so much, so even with three years of lessons under her belt, she wasn’t as good as she wished to be.

As Burger watched in awe and Dasha neared the end of the song she’d been working on, Dasha’s mother came into the room and began yelling Dasha’s name over the sound of the drums. 

After a few shouts, Dasha finally heard her and paused her song. Her mother didn’t seem happy.

“Dasha, please, could you quiet down, dear?” Her mother said, middle fingers pressed to her temples. “I’m trying to relax and I can hear you all the way downstairs.”

Dasha nodded, setting down her drumsticks. Her mother smiled before leaving the room. 

“She does that every time,” Dasha said, sitting down on her bed, her arms crossed. “She’s the one who wanted me to take music lessons in the first place, but every time I practice she makes me stop. She’s the reason I still suck.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Burger said, jumping onto the bed beside her. 

“The other day she told me I should switch to something like the piano.”

“Because it’s quieter?”

“I guess so.”

“We should put pillows on the drums so you can practice without it being too loud!”

Dasha laughed. Burger, whether he knew it or not, had always been an expert at cheering Dasha up when she needed it. They tried their best to attach pillows to all the drums, but it didn’t work out the way Burger thought it would and ended with Burger and Dasha instead deciding to make a pillow fort in the corner of Dasha’s room where they told each other spooky stories and played with Dasha’s collection of stuffed animals.

* * *

Dasha and Burger spent as much time with each other as their parents and their schedules would allow. Usually, they were both busy, Dasha with her first year of high school and continued music lessons, along with tennis lessons and girl scouts, both of which her mother insisted she do, and Burger with his chores around the farm and his new boy scout troop, which he joined soon after Dasha joined the girl scouts. 

About once every few months though, Dasha’s parents would either send her to stay on Burger’s farm or Burger’s parents would send him to stay at Dasha’s house for a week. Over fall break for Dasha’s school, she stayed at the farm, riding bikes with Burger and helping out with little jobs around the farm, though Burger’s parents rarely requested her assistance. One day after an intense game of hide and seek, Burger and Dasha sat on the porch each with a popsicle in hand, watching as the sun disappeared in the distance saying goodnight to the two of them.

“It’s nice being able to hang out outside with you,” Dasha said. “My parents never let me play outside.”

"Are they worried you'll get kidnapped or somethin’?" Burger asked.

"Yeah. I understand why they want me to be safe, but it's not like I'm walking around in the dark all alone or anything," Dasha said. "I guess it doesn’t really matter. It's not like I have time to do stuff outside anyways with all the things my mom is making me do now."

"You should just come live here with us!" Burger said, biting off the last chunk of his popsicle

"I wish." Dasha finished her own just as the sky grew dark and the crickets started to chirp.

* * *

“Do you wanna sneak out?” Dasha asked.

They were staying at her house now. Her parents had gone to sleep ages ago and she and Burger had been listening to the radio and playing cards for the past few hours, neither of them wanting to go to bed, but not wanting to risk being loud enough to wake her parents up while talking.

Burger looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. “Sneak out?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun! We can go to that grocery store on the corner. I’ve got a few bucks in my dresser, we can get some candy or something and then come right back home.”

“You’re not allowed to drive without an adult in the car, Dasha,” Burger said.

“We can walk.”

“That’s kinda a far walk. What if your folks come to check on us while we’re gone?”

“They won’t. When was the last time you remember them checking on us, huh?” 

“How would we even get out without wakin’ ‘em up?” Burger asked. 

“I figured out how to open up the guest room window downstairs. It goes right into the front yard, and it’s far enough away from their bedroom that they won’t hear it open.” Dasha had clearly been planning this for a while.

“Is it safe to be out and about this late at night?” Burger asked. “I don’t want to get into any trouble.”

Dasha grabbed both of Burger’s hands. “Look at me. Would I ever let you do something if I didn’t think it’d be safe?”

Burger shook his head.

“Then trust me. We’ll be fine. And it’ll be fun!”

“... You swear?”

Dasha put her hand to her chest. “Swear on my mom’s grave.”

“Dasha!” Burger said, trying his best to keep his voice down. “You can’t say that if your mama’s not dead! You’ll jinx it and she’ll die for real!”

“Well, I don’t know any actual dead people,” Dasha said.

“You can swear on Mango’s grave,” Burger said.

“I can’t swear on your dead dog’s grave!” Dasha said, trying her best not to burst out laughing for fear of waking her parents.

“Well, if you don’t I’m not going,” Burger said, crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay, I swear on Mango’s grave that nothing will happen to us,” Dasha said.

“And?”

“And that you’ll have fun.”

Burger broke out into a toothy grin, bouncing up off the floor and quickly finding his shoes. “Come on! Get your shoes on! We gotta get going now, Dasha!”

* * *

Dasha sat in the waiting room of the hospital, earbuds in and music on full volume in an attempt to drown out both her parents and the thoughts running through her head. Just over an hour ago, they’d gotten a call from Burger’s parents that he’d been kicked in the jaw by a donkey and was on his way to the hospital. Now he was in surgery and even though she’d been told by Burger’s parents that this surgery wasn’t one of the riskier ones, she couldn’t help but worry what would happen to her friend.

Time moved slowly by as Dasha sat in the waiting room, sandwiched between her parents. Every now and then her dad would try his best to comfort her with little success and her mom would ask her to turn down her music. Eventually, Dasha moved to a different area, turning her music back to full volume in her earbuds. Her parents weren’t helping much if at all, to calm her nerves. All she wanted now was to disappear into the sound of the guitar and drums filling her head.

For the first few hours after surgery Burger wasn’t awake and Dasha wasn’t allowed in the room. But just knowing that the surgery had gone well and Burger was safely asleep was enough to help Dasha relax. It was another handful of hours later when a nurse told them they were finally allowed to visit Burger. 

Burger’s whole face seemed swollen, most noticeably his lips, and he had his jaw completely wrapped up. His eyes were barely open even now that he was awake, clearing still tired from the surgery, but when he saw Dasha she could see the happiness inside them. She was at his side immediately.

“I was so worried about you,” Dasha said as she grabbed and held his hand. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Burger couldn’t do anything to respond but give her hand a squeeze and before long, he was falling back asleep and Dasha had to go back home.

Dasha visited Burger as often as her parents would let her. She would bring her laptop with her so they could watch DVDs she knew Burger liked and he could type out anything he wanted to say to her while he was still unable to talk. Mostly he complained about not being able to eat and reminded Dasha how much he loved being able to see her each day.

A week after his surgery he was able to talk well enough to be understood. The first thing he said to Dasha was “Do you think I’ll end up with a cool scar?” She assured him he would. 

Very soon after, Burger returned home, and his parents and Dasha’s let her stay with them for the following week to keep him company and keep his spirits high. It took a lot of convincing from Dasha to keep Burger from moving more than he should to make sure he was getting the rest he needed. 

Eventually, he was able to go back to life as normal, though he would repeatedly tell Dasha that he missed having her over all the time like she was back when he was still recovering. And, of course, he did end up with a very cool scar.

* * *

When Burger answered the door to find Dasha on the other side, he was, of course, happy to see his best friend again, but confused as to why his parents hadn’t given him a heads up about her coming over, or why he hadn’t at least received a text from Dasha herself. Before Burger could ask her about any of that, she asked if he could bring her to his room without his parents seeing, and though he wanted to question why, first he did just that, double-checking to make sure his parents weren’t nearby before rushing Dasha to his room. 

“I can’t believe them!” Dasha said as soon as the door was shut.

“Who?” Burger asked, locking the door behind him.

“My parents, they say they’re making me stay home after high school. They’re not going to pay for college or anything, they say I just have to take care of my younger siblings and prepare to join the family business.”

“They’re makin’ you do that?” Burger asked with concern. 

“I mean, I knew they wanted me to take over one day but I didn’t know they were going to force me to do it.”

“Aren’t there any other people who can take over? How ‘bout your siblings?”

“They said they’re too young, and they’re not willing to let anyone outside of the family take over.”

Dasha was sitting on Burger’s bed, knees to her chest, arms hugging her legs. Burger wasn’t used to seeing her so upset. She had never gotten along well with her parents, but Burger could tell Dasha was angrier now than he’d ever seen her before.

“Well, you’ll be 18 soon, right? They can’t tell ya what to do once you’re an adult.”

“They can’t make me do anything but it’s not like they’ll support me if I don’t listen to them. They probably won’t pay for a place for me to live, much less for me to go to school. I don’t know that I’ll be able to live on my own.”

“You could come live with us!”

Dasha shook her head. “Your parents would tell mine where I was, they’d come get me.”

“You could live in my room then! I wouldn’t tell my folks you were in here. I’d sneak you food and everythin’!”

“That’s sweet Burger, but I know you couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Eventually, you’d accidentally tell your parents where I’d run away to.”

“I would not!” Burger said, giving Dasha’s shoulder a shove.

“You would too.”

“I would not! I swear on Mango’s grave I wouldn’t tell ‘em!”

Dasha laughed. Burger was still an expert as cheering her up, after so many years of doing it. “Thanks, Buddy,” she said.

Dasha stayed the night in Burger’s room, reluctantly returning home in the morning after Burger’s folks received a worried call from Dasha’s mom.

* * *

Burger was more worried than he could put into words. He tried. He tried to tell his parents after they first broke the news to him that Dasha’s parents had no idea where she was and suspected she had run away. She’d done it before, but she always drove to his house when she needed to get away from her parents for the night. This time it had been a few days since she first disappeared and neither Burger’s nor Dasha’s parents had any idea where she was.

Burger knew she must have left for good this time. He just knew. She had talked about running away someplace where her parents would finally leave her alone for the past few months, and the fact that she hadn’t shown up at Burger’s place was a clear enough sign to him that she wasn’t risking going somewhere she might be found this time. 

Burger called Dasha as soon as he heard. He called and texted and reached out to her on every social media platform she was on, but he didn’t receive any sort of response until a full week had passed since she first ran away. 

_Check the mail._

Burger found a letter in the mailbox addressed to him from an address he didn’t recognize, in handwriting he did. It wasn’t long, but it let Burger know that Dasha was sorry she had to leave without giving Burger a proper goodbye, that she’d be changing her phone number as soon as the letter was delivered, along with all other forms of communication that her parents could attempt to contact her through, and that if Burger ever wanted to try getting back in touch with her he could send a letter to the address on the envelope. Dasha insisted Burger wait to do so until he was out of the house, in case his parents got to a letter he received from Dasha before Burger did and passed along any information inside, including her address, to her parents.

Burger was devastated, but he understood. He knew how unhappy Dasha was at home and he knew that any contact with her parents would be unwanted. But just because he was willing to lose contact with his closest friend, the only friend he felt as close with as he did his family, didn’t mean that he wasn’t heartbroken knowing that he’d have to wait nearly three years to be able to talk to her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first half of the history of Burger and Dasha's friendship! I've got a similar two-part story planned out for how Burger and Vang0 met and became friends and the same for Vang0 and Dasha. Their backstories with each other are my favorite parts of this AU at the moment and I'm really excited to write and share them all with you :0). Please let me know if you like this first part of Dasha and Burger's little tale. Hopefully, the second part will be posted in the next few days. Thanks for reading.


	4. Mango's Grave: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dasha runs away from home, Burger starts looking forward to the day they can finally get back in touch. But things don't always go exactly how you plan them to.

Burger continued growing up on his parents’ farm. He continued helping out around the house and caring for the animals. He continued with the boy scouts, but only for so long after Dasha ran off. It reminded him too much of why he joined in the first place. He stayed in touch with a few friends he’d made while he was a boy scout, but with time, they stopped talking.

Years passed by slowly after Dasha ran away. Burger was almost positive that time wasn’t moving as fast those days. With each new week, each new month, each new season, Burger wanted more and more to fast forward to the day he was finally able to get back in touch with Dasha. 

As he neared his 18th birthday, Burger, unsure of when he would be moving out on his own, that is, if he ever decided he wanted to leave the farm, began saving for a P.O. box. He knew his parents would probably be willing to buy it for him, but he didn’t want them knowing he had one just in case they connected the dots and realized what he’d be using it for, so he had to wait until he was a legal adult to buy it himself.

The very same day he turned 18, he bought the P.O. box and sent a letter to the address written on the letter Dasha had sent him three years ago. It was short. It told Dasha he missed her, and that he had bought a P.O. box and that he wanted to get back in contact with her however he could.

He checked the mail every day for the next week, giving his parents a different excuse as to why he was heading into town each day. He volunteered to get groceries, said he was meeting up with a group of friends from boy scouts, and insisted that he needed new clothes or bed sheets. Exactly a week after he’d first sent his letter to Dasha, he finally received one back.

It wasn’t from Dasha. Apparently, she didn’t live there anymore. From what the letter said, it wasn’t a very nice place, and the new tenet said she had probably made enough money by now to afford someplace more comfortable. They didn’t seem to know who Dasha was. 

They’d included their email in the letter, and Burger emailed them asking if they had any information that he could use in hopes of regaining contact with his friend. They didn’t. All they gave Burger was their landlord’s email, which he sent a message to immediately, but, after weeks of awaiting a reply, Burger assumed he wouldn’t be getting one.

Burger had no idea what to do. He’d spent the past three years of his life waiting for the day he could get back in contact with his friend. He’d imagined finally being able to talk to her again, visiting her at her new place, meeting all her new friends, going right back to being the best friends they’d been, for so long that it felt impossible to reshape that picture of the future into one without Dasha. 

For the next couple of months, Burger tried to focus on other things. He tried to get a job in town, but none of the available jobs seemed fit for him. He tried to put more of his time into his parents’ farm, but everything about it reminded him of Dasha. Whenever he tried to picture where he’d end up a few years down the line, everything he came up with was blurry and uncertain.

Eventually, his parents asked him if he planned on staying on the farm, if he was going to take over for them when they got too old to work. He shook his head. They asked him what he planned on doing, and he couldn’t give them an answer. They told him to think about it and the conversation ended.

He did think about it. He tried his best to think about it without thinking of Dasha, but with no success. So he gave up on trying to cut her out of his picture of the future. He had one thing he knew about what she’d been up to and where she’d been since she first left home. He’d heard good things about San Francisco anyways. It was supposed to be nice enough there. And that was the place he was most likely to find Dasha. That was the place she sent him that letter from years ago. Who said he couldn’t start his life out of the house without keeping a little bit of hope tucked in the back of his mind that he’d run into Dasha again one day?

He let his parents know he’d decided to move to California to try and find a job and a life of his own. They let him know they’d support him, even if they were sad to see him go. Over the next few weeks, they helped him gather up his belongings and make a plan for what he’d do when he first arrived. The day before Burger left, they surprised him with a van, the kind he’d loved since he was little. The paint was worn and it was a bit dinged up, but he fell in love with it as soon as they showed it to him. With a couple of hugs goodbye and lots of waving as the house he’d spent his whole life in grew smaller and smaller, he left his family farm for good.

Almost immediately after moving to San Francisco, Burger had made a new friend. A good friend. A best friend. And it wasn’t Dasha. There were times where he felt guilty like he’d moved here for Dasha only to abandon her as soon as a new friend came along. But he still missed Dasha every day. He still held his breath anytime he saw someone who looked just a little too similar to her from behind, only to release it when someone he didn’t recognize turned around. He and his new friend moved into a small apartment, barely managing to pay rent as they both struggled to find work. Burger’s parents were always willing to chip in when needed, but he only reached out to them when he was really struggling. 

As the years passed, Burger found a routine for himself. He stopped going out to someplace new every night just to scan every face he could find and started staying in with Vang0. He picked up the guitar, learning bit by bit, and getting better and better each time he practiced. He made new friends, growing more and more familiar with the area he lived in, finding communities he felt at home in. He was happy with the life he’d created for himself. 

Of course, there were always moments that made him think of Dasha. When Vang0 first started adding drum parts into the songs he wrote Burger would imagine Dasha playing them. When he and Vang0 watched movies with Winona Ryder in them he’d remember how often Dasha was told she looked just like the actress. He thought of her when he realized he’d bought the same brand of popsicles his parents always bought when she stayed at their house for the week. He thought of her when he found Vang0 carefully assembling a pillow fort that he streamed inside of almost constantly for the next week. He thought of her when they hired someone who happened to be named Dasha to fix their fridge after it broke without warning one summer afternoon.

“I used to know a gal named Dasha,” Burger said to Vang0. “We basically grew up together.”

“Is she the one who ran away?” Vang0 asked.

“She sure is. I miss her like crazy.”

There was a knock at the door they both assumed was the Dasha they’d hired to fix their fridge. Vang0 was the one who opened the door, but Burger didn’t need to see her to recognize the voice of the woman who was on the other side.

“You’re the one who needs a fridge fixed?”

It was her. After so many years, there Dasha was standing in their doorway. Before Vang0 could reply, Burger was pulling him out of the way so he could see for himself the friend he’d missed so long.

“Dasha!”

It took her a moment, Burger could tell (he looked quite a bit different now than he did at 15), but then he saw the recognition flash in her eyes and before he could think he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground as he hugged her.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Dasha said after finally being put down.

“It is!”

“You live in San Francisco!”

“I sure do!”

“How? Why?”

“Well,” Burger said. “I got myself a P.O. box once I turned 18, but by that time you didn’t live at the same address you first moved out to.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stand living in that shitty place anymore. I gave the landlord my information when I moved out just in case you ever sent something, but he sort of hated me so I doubt he even kept it.”

“Yeah, I emailed him but he never responded. A while after that I decided I was gonna move off the farm, and figured I might as well come here just in case I ever ran into ya,” Burger said. “And I did!”

“Wait, you moved all the way out here just because there was a small chance you might run into me? You can’t be serious.”

“Swear on Mango’s grave,” Burger said, hand on his heart.

“Mango... your old dog?” Vang0 asked.

“Oh! Where are my manners! Vang0, this is Dasha, the one I was just talkin’ ‘bout,” Burger said.

“I figured.”

“And you must be Burger Chainz,” Dasha said, extending her hand out to Vang0.

Instead of shaking it, Vang0 made his initials with his hands. “Vang0 Bang0.”

“Oh,” Dasha said. “Well, whoever hired me was named Burger Chainz, though it does sound like a fake name.”

“That would be my name, actually,” Burger said.

“You changed your name?! Alright, while I’m fixing whatever’s up with your fridge, you have to tell me everything that’s happened in the past six years.”

“Only if tell me how life’s been on your own in San Fran since you moved out.”

And so for the next few hours, Dasha told Burger all about how she’d struggled to get by after first moving out and went from job to job, getting to know as many people as she could, making herself known, even if it was usually for being able to help with odd jobs when someone didn’t know who to call, and Burger told her about how he’d continued living on the farm, waiting to reach out to her, and how he and Vang0 had met and grown to be friends over the past three years. And even after being apart for so long, Burger still felt as close to Dasha as he did when they were kids, jumping on her bed and waiting for her parents to fall asleep so they could sneak to the gas station a block away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2! Dasha and Burger's backstory complete! I think the next one I'll do will be Burger and Vang0's. It'll have a bit more of a focus on Vang0 in the same way this one had a bit more of a focus on Burger. That might not get written for a while because I'm gonna be pretty busy for the next week or so, but I'm very excited to write it and post it :0). I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading!


	5. Memory Loss: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making the drive from his family farm to San Francisco, Burger meets someone new in a near-empty diner. In an ideal world, their conversation would have ended with Burger having a new friend, but after they finish talking things don't go so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burger introduces himself as Buddy in this chapter. That was his name before he changed it, which I pinkie promise you'll see him do very soon.

Burger had just finished the 15-hour drive from his family farm in Bozeman, Montana to San Fransisco. He had left home in the afternoon, with nothing but his van, some clothes, a few personal belongings, and a solid amount of cash from his parents that they’d given him to help him start out on his own, and was now arriving at his destination just as the sun began to rise. He was dead tired, running off of pure excitement and caffeine, but still struggling to keep a sleepy haze from settling over his mind. Part of him wanted to find a grocery store parking lot to park his van in while he slept through the rest of the day, but first, he had to eat, his hunger after so long without food outweighing his tiredness.

He drove around for a while, trying to find someplace that seemed relatively decent compared to the fast-food restaurants he’d been passing for hours. Eventually, he found a simple-looking diner sitting on the corner of a busy intersection, the neon “open” sign flickering by the front door. He turned into the parking lot, trying his best to contain his van to a single spot, but doing a very poor job. He figured it was alright considering the lack of other cars parked around him and made his way in.

As the door swung shut behind him, a bell rang above Burger’s head, prompting a cheerful-looking waitress to call out to him “Sit wherever you’d like and we’ll be with you in a moment!” 

Burger made his way to a small table near the center of the cafe. The floor was made up of white, red, and blue tiles, the walls an off white that was almost closer to yellow. Throughout the restaurant, a pop song Burger recognized but couldn’t quite identify played, just too quiet to focus on and just too loud to ignore. After sitting down in the bright red chair tucked into the table he’d chosen, he looked around the diner. 

There were very few people there, most of them seemingly bored staff awaiting more customers. When one of the waiters behind the counter, chatting with a few others made eye contact with Burger, they quickly made their way to where Burger was sat, offering him a menu and a water and telling him he could simply wave them over whenever he knew what he wanted to order. Burger thanked them as they walked away, going back to looking around at the other people in the diner. 

There were five servers that he could see, three behind the counter, one at a table handing someone their check, and the one who just handed him his menu going through what Burger assumed to be the door to the kitchen. There were more staff members in the diner than customers, which Burger assumed was because it was still relatively early in the morning. It seemed plausible that the couple sitting in a booth in the corner farthest from him were the type of people who got up early enough to be here just past 7 am, both made of bright smiles and exaggerated movements, but the guy who seemed to be around Burger’s age and who’d just gotten his check seemed out of place somehow. His short brown hair was a mess, his bright green T-shirt clearly in need of a wash, and even from several feet away Burger could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. It seemed more likely that he’d been up all night like Burger than that he’d woken up before the sun. Instinctually, some part of Burger felt immediate concern for him. 

As Burger was staring at him, he saw his eyes grow wide, his eyebrows knit together as he looked over his check. After a moment he leaned his head back onto the back of the booth, closing his eyes before returning his gaze to his bill. He glanced towards the servers all chatting in low voices at the counter, slowly raising his hand and waving towards them. The girl who’d handed him his check before, the same cheery one who’d greeted Burger when he first entered the diner came over to his booth again.

“All done?” she asked, ready to reach out for the check.

“Um, actually, I think you may have overcharged me,” the guy in the booth said, holding the check up to the woman. “The sign by the window says that the eggs are half off on Sundays.”

“That it does, but today’s Monday, dear,” the server said.

The man closed his eyes again, worry growing on his face. Burger couldn’t quite hear him, but it seemed pretty clear that he was cursing under his breath. “I don’t have enough.” 

The waitress sighed but kept on a smile. “Well, this has gotta be paid for somehow. D’you have a credit card you can use?”

The man shook his head, eyes still closed, as if everything would disappear as long as he couldn’t see it.

“Don’t you have someone you can call to come help you out?”

With that question, the man’s eyes opened again, and even from tables away Burger could tell he was on the brink of tears. Burger stood up without a second thought and made his way over. 

“I’ll cover it,” Burger said, pulling out his wallet. “How much?”

The guy in the booth looked up at him, confusion written all over his face, but with gratitude tucked behind it. “Um, $13.25.”

Burger pulled a ten and a five out, handing them to the waitress. “You can keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said before walking away from the booth.

When Burger looked back towards the man in the booth he was still staring at him. “Thank you.”

Burger grinned from ear to ear, sliding into the booth across from him. “No problem, pal!” He paused for a moment before following up. “You alright? You’re not looking so hot right now.”

After Burger asked him that, just by looking at him he could tell there were so much weighing on him, so many different things he could answer with, but he simply shook his head and with it shook away all the worries scattered across his expression. “I’m fine. I’m just… things are tough right now.”

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, this guy couldn’t hide whatever it was that was hurting him so bad. Even when he smiled at Burger, he still seemed one spilled drink or mean look away from crumbling to pieces. 

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Burger asked. “Is there anything I can help ya with?”

For a second it almost seemed like the man was going to say yes, but he ended up simply shaking his head. “You’ve done enough already. Thank you again.”

“No problem at all! Glad I could help. The name’s Buddy by the way,” Burger said, extending his hand out.

The man across from him looked at it for a few seconds before taking it and quickly shaking it immediately drawing his hand back.

Burger paused. “You got a name yourself?”

Before he received an answer Burger felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to see the waiter who’d handed him his menu before. “Ready to order?”

Burger shook his head. “Not quite. I’ll take a look now though and let ya know when I do!”

As the waiter walked away Burger turned to see the man across from his staring at the table. “I should go.”

“You can stay with me while I eat if you’d like. I’m new in town, and it’d be nice to get to know someone ‘round here. I don’t mind orderin’ you some coffee or somethin’ for while we’re chattin’.”

“That’s really nice, but I have somewhere I need to get back too. Besides, I’ve bothered you enough.”

“Well, you didn’t bother me at all,” Burger said. “It was nice talkin’.”

“Yeah… it was.”

Before Burger could say a proper goodbye, the man across from him was sliding out from the booth and turning back towards the exit, the bell above the door ringing throughout the diner as the door swung shut behind him.

_ What a character,  _ Burger thought to himself.

Burger grabbed his menu from off the table he’d been sitting at before, but brought it with him back to the booth. He liked being able to see the street. Maybe he’d see someone walking along the sidewalk who would look back at him and they’d end up becoming friends. He was in desperate need of at least at the moment. 

As he looked through the different breakfast options, struggling to decide if he wanted something savory or sweet, his thoughts were forced to a halt when the sound of screeching tires, honking horns, and a loud crash flooded his ears. He looked out the window just in time to see a car turn out of the way of two others that had just slammed into each other. It started to brake, but not in time to avoid hitting the pedestrian walking through the nearby crosswalk.

Before Burger could think he was out of his chair, out of the restaurant, out into the street where a man in a bright green shirt lay just barely moving. The man from the diner. Burger fumbled with his phone, dialing 911 as fast as he could, waiting for someone to answer. As soon as he heard a voice on the other end, he was rambling on about the crash, trying to get everything out in a coherent fashion, letting them know the number of cars involved and the street names. Help was on the way, the operator said right before Burger hung up. 

Now he was crouched next to the guy in the green shirt, who was breathing heavily as he laid still on the ground, his eyes screwed shut. 

“Are you okay?” Burger asked, and he knew it was a stupid question but it was all he could think to say.

The man didn’t answer.

“Can you move?”

For a moment the man seemed to try to do just that, only to wince and clench his teeth, barely rolling over onto his side.

Burger couldn’t just stand here watching him lay there in so much pain. He looked around, hoping with all he had that an ambulance would come into view any second. He saw a few employees from the diner near one of the cars involved in the crash, a few stray passersby either helping those who had been in the cars or calling for help, but the help wasn’t there yet. Burger remembered passing a hospital not too long ago. It wouldn’t take long to drive there himself.

“Sorry, this is gonna hurt,” Burger said, scooping the guy in the green shirt up in one movement. 

Burger tried his best to ignore the short but all too loud cry that came from him as Burger carried the man as quickly as his legs would take him back to his van. He set him down in the passenger seat, hopping into the driver’s seat immediately after and starting the car. He exited the parking lot on the street without the crashed vehicles on it, driving off in the direction he’d come from when he first saw the diner, the direction of the hospital.

“How are you holdin’ up?” Burger asked as he pressed his foot to the gas pedal.

The man still didn’t seem to be able to answer with anything more than a grunt that was a clear indication of pain. 

“It’ll be alright, just hang in there,” Burger said, weaving through other cars on the road, going as fast as he could while also making sure not to end up in the second car accident of the day. “There should be a hospital not too far from here, everything will be alright, just hang in there.”

Burger wasn’t sure if the man was taking in a word he was saying, if he could even really hear him, but he was clearly still breathing and he was clearly still in a world of pain, so he sped up and kept driving. 

Just as he was beginning to worry that he was wrong about there being a hospital or that maybe he’d been thinking of a hospital he’d passed hours ago, Burger saw it coming up on his right and pressed down on the pedal just a bit more. As Burger neared the entrance into the hospital parking lot he slowed down just enough so that his passenger didn’t get slammed into the door as he made the turn. He quickly found a sign pointing in the direction of the emergency entrance, parking as close to it as he could.

“I gotta pick you up again,” Burger said before doing just that. This time he was more prepared for the cry that the man let out, but it didn’t make it sting any less when Burger thought about the pain he was in. 

And then he was running again, towards the hospital, through the front doors, and up to the desk, the woman behind which quickly pointed him in the direction he should take the body he held in his arms. Before Burger’s brain fully caught up to where he was and what he was doing, the man in the bright green shirt was out of his arms and lying on a stretcher moving away from him until it was completely out of Burger’s sight.

“Are you a family member?” Someone was asking him, and Burger shook his head. 

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it in his feet.

“Friend?” A pause. “Boyfriend?”

“We just met,” Burger said. “I don’t even know his name.”

Whoever it was he was talking to (Burger hadn’t caught that, his mind still felt like it was moving in slow motion) led him to a waiting room and told him it’d be a while. But the adrenaline along with the caffeine from the last coffee he’d downed in the car had worn off by that time, and Burger could barely keep his eyes open. Even though he knew it was probably allowed, he felt bad sleeping in the waiting room, so he made his way back to the van, repeating the room number someone had told him the green shirt guy would be in once he was okay over and over, hoping he’d still remember it whenever it was he woke up as he leaned his seat back and finally let his mind drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you caught on to this at some point while reading by the guy in the green shirt is in fact the one and only Vang0 Bang0. I feel bad for being so mean to him this chapter but I promise that the second part won't be nearly so mean to him. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's the first of two that go over how Burger and Vang0 met, so the next chapter will finish that backstory up for the most part. Hopefully, it will be out sometime within the next couple weeks, but I am gonna be a lot busier moving forward so chapters might start taking a lot longer to come out. Thank you to anyone who's actually reading this, I hope you like doing so as much as I like writing it. I'd love to hear what you think so far if you don't mind leaving a comment.


	6. Memory Loss: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vang0 Bang0 wakes up in the hospital with no memories of who he or the friendly-looking man asking if he remembers him are.

Vang0 woke up in the hospital and waited for his mind to fully wake up with him. Waited a few moments for memories to come flooding back. Waited. But none did. Vang0 could remember  _ pain _ . So much pain. It was the only thing he could seem to find in his mind. The pain was still there now, throughout his body, humming in the back of his head. He barely understood where he was, much less why he was there. Before he realized it he was panicking.

“Hey! You’re awake!” 

Vang0’s head immediately whipped around to look at the source of the voice. A man made of smiles with bright eyes was already on his way over to where Vang0 laid in a bed- a hospital bed he realized- and he didn’t seem nearly as terrified as Vang0 felt.

Vang0 desperately wanted to ask a million different questions, but they all flooded his mind at the same time, none quite making it out his mouth before the man continued talking.

“It’s me, Buddy. I dunno if you ‘member me from the diner or not. Or, I dunno if you ‘member much of anythin’ at all. The doctors said your head got hit real bad and, well, I guess all of your memories mighta spilled out.”

Vang0 let Buddy’s words sink in slowly, each second hoping to every force in the universe that the next word out of his mouth would cause something, anything, to come into his head. Nothing.

“I…” Nothing. Nothing at all. “I don’t remember you. I can’t…” 

That was enough for Buddy to understand. Before he said a word, Vang0 could see his concern in the creases in his forehead and the shift in his smile. 

“Oh gosh, pal, I’m real sorry. That must be scary.”

Vang0 nodded. It was terrifying. 

“Well, I better go fetch a doctor, though I’m pretty sure they’ve got some sort of beep-y machine that’ll let ‘em know you woke up without me notifyin’ ‘em.”

Vang0 wanted to tell him not to leave, but before he could even consider it, Buddy was rushing out the door. Vang0 glanced around the room he was in, a cold looking hospital room with just the one bed. He looked down to examine the IV sticking out from his arm and was suddenly acutely aware of all the bandages and bruises covering his body. Part of him wanted to close his eyes right then and there and force his brain to go to sleep so he could wake up from whatever dream this must be, so he could return to whatever life was just out of reach in his brain, but before he could more than entertain the idea, a line of people were rushing into his room, seemingly a doctor, a couple nurses, and Buddy at the very end.

They explained what happened to him. That he was hit by a car and suffered near-fatal injuries. That he had brain damage that resulted in what they assumed would be permanent memory loss. They told him his name, and it sounded vaguely familiar, but it felt so far away. It felt less like it was his and more like he had been handed it by someone who never bothered coming back for it. Everything they told him about himself felt distant to Vang0. Especially the names of his parents.

“Where are they?” Vang0 asked after hearing their names. “Why aren’t they here?”

A nurse said they tried to get in contact with them but never got any response. Vang0 wondered what that meant for him. Were they busy? Were they ignoring him? Were they dead? The questions echoed inside of his head searching for answers they would never find in there. 

When the hospital staff finally left the room, Vang0 still knew only the details about himself that could be found on a birth certificate. He was nearly 19. He had a name, as did his parents, but none of the names meant anything to him. 

The thing that felt most concrete was Buddy, and he was seemingly nothing more than a semi-stranger he’d met at a diner.

“Will you tell me about what happened?” Vang0 asked as soon as they left.

“Well, it’s just like the doctor said. You got hit by that car right after you left the diner and-”

“No,” Vang0 said. “I mean, what happened before that. And after. Just tell me anything that happened since we first met.”

“Oh. Well, when I was sat down in the diner I noticed you lookin’ upset at your check. You called a waitress over cause ya didn’t have enough to cover it, and she suggested you call someone. You didn’t look too thrilled with that option, so I offered to pay and sat down with ya. You didn’t look too well, and I kept askin’ if there was anythin’ wrong, anythin’ I could help with, but you didn’t really give me much to go off of. After a bit, you said ya had to get back to somewhere, and ya left, and… well next thing I know the accident has happened and you’re lyin’ in the road.”

That was it then. That was everything Buddy knew of him. That he was some sick looking guy in a diner who had someplace to be. That was everything Vang0 knew about his own damn life.

“I ran out into the road and scooped ya up and got ya into my van. You were just about unconscious, but not quite. I was real worried you wouldn’t make it to the hospital, but ya did. They were operatin’ on ya quite a while. I slept through most of it in my van. She’s a real beaut, by the way, you’ll have to give ‘er a look once you can get outa here. I-” Buddy had been talking mostly to himself up until that point, rambling on looking more at nothing than Vang0 specifically, but now his gaze was back on him and that look from earlier had returned, burying the grin he’d donned a moment earlier. “Oh, gosh sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

It took Vang0 a second for his own thoughts to catch up to him. He was crying. A lot.

“Geez, it’s probably scary hearin’ about all that,” Buddy said. “What can I do?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” Vang0 said, trying to wipe away the tears that just kept coming. “I’m fine, you don’t have to worry.”

Buddy chuckled just a bit. “You sound just the same as in the diner. Oh, sorry, bringin’ that back up won’t help much will it? Here, just a sec, I got an idea.” 

Buddy quickly ran over to the padded ledge on the far wall of the room underneath a window, presumably there for guests to sit on, grabbing at his backpack and quickly unzipping the front pocket. When he returned to the side of Vang0’s bed, he had his phone in his hand, already tapping away on it. 

“Music is nice! That’ll cheer ya up a bit I bet. I dunno what you like listenin’ to, doubt you do either, but I got a playlist that always works to raise my spirits. Should be in here some- here! Got it!”

Just as Buddy tapped the screen one final time before setting the phone on the table beside Vang0, a guitar riff blared out into the room, followed quickly by the sound of drums and then the rest of the band. It was all loud loud loud, fast and angry.

“This is what you use to relax?” Vang0 asked.

“Yeah, I ‘spose. It’s upbeat, so it makes it hard to be sad. Plus I always appreciate bands with good drummers.”

He wasn’t wrong. The drummer was good. And Vang0 did feel better, even if just a bit, lying in bed with Buddy sitting on the floor beside him using his fingers to drum along to the song on his shoes. But it was less the music than Buddy himself. He said Vang0 sounded just like he had in the diner when they’d first met. So even if Vang0’s memories were gone, he had to hold on to the belief that whoever he was, whatever really made him himself, was still somewhere in him. And even if his parents were nowhere to be found, he had someone here with him, insisting Vang0 take over the drums as he switched to air guitar.

It soon became apparent that Buddy had one goal: make Vang0 happy while he was stuck in the hospital. Everyday Vang0 would wake up and for a brief moment, he would be blissfully unaware of the fact that even once the sleepy haze faded, his memories would still be gone. The doctors said there was a chance they’d come back, most likely after lots of therapy. Vang0 couldn’t wait for the chance to leave and find himself a therapist and get his life back. But for now, he spent each day stuck in that hospital bed as his body healed, with Buddy there doing everything he could to distract him. 

The first night post-surgery, Vang0 woke up to a dark empty room and started crying before his memories from the previous day of talking through everything that had happened came to him, reliving that same panic of having a completely blank slate. After that Buddy slept in the room, only ever leaving when Vang0 was awake and he could tell him how long he’d be gone for. Vang0 wanted to protest (he knew that little ledge couldn’t be comfortable), but Buddy wouldn’t let him. 

“It’s no problem at all, promise,” he said. “It probably isn’t much worse than my van anyway.”

Everyday, Buddy would try something new in an attempt to make life better for Vang0. He brought a deck of cards into the room from his van, but he only knew how to play a couple games, so it grew old quickly. He told Vang0 nearly a million different stories about himself and his life, like the time he got his teeth kicked out by a donkey, which explained the nasty scar on his chin. He barely seemed to mention how much it must’ve hurt, too caught up in having Vang0 run a finger over the scar, detailing a made-up scenario in which it helps him win the trust of a badass superhero. Buddy was also set on telling Vang0 everything he could about all the different celebrities and world events and national happens he deemed important enough to spend time catching Vang0 up on. In the end, most of what he learned about was the different bands Buddy loved, ones with drummers he could write biographies on in his sleep, with a few old country bands thrown in.

“That’s all thanks to my folks. They’re big country nuts.”

The bands Vang0 liked the most were the ones with lyrics that resonated with him. It was hard to listen to the words of the songs Buddy played him sometimes. To hear them talk about all these immensely common experiences meant to stick with those who listened that Vang0 could never connect to a memory of his. But even without a history to reflect on, some songs were so human, so specific and yet so easy to latch on to, that Vang0 couldn’t help but wonder if they were songs he used to know, ones that reflected moments from his past that were now just out of reach. Buddy added all of his favorites to a playlist that, once it grew long enough, played in the background of all their games and conversations.

After about a week in the hospital, Buddy left for a couple hours and returned with a shiny new computer, his Spotify already loaded ready for listening.

“Your playlist is the one with your name as the title, but feel free to listen to anythin’ ya want.”

Vang0 changed the name of his playlist immediately to a string of emojis that Buddy spent the next hour or so trying to decode. 

Buddy said he’d gotten Vang0 the laptop so he could explore, learn about whatever he deemed most important, and so he could pass the time however he chose. Vang0 insisted it was too much. Buddy said it wasn’t even close. Buddy still spent almost all his time in the room, and they still talked almost constantly, and Vang0’s playlist still lingered in the background of every passing minute, but now Vang0 spent a lot of time on his own, searching the web for something he felt like he could latch onto. 

He searched his name more than he wanted to admit but never found anything. He tried searching his parents names, but quickly realized he had no idea how to distinguish them from any other people with the same names and abandoned the task.

Soon he found himself stumbling down a YouTube rabbit hole, hopping from video to video, trying his best to blindly pass the time but always searching for something that felt like  _ something. _ Something that felt like it meant something to him. He always seemed to return to Buddy’s Spotify. Buddy always noticed when he switched from listening to his playlist to exploring what else Buddy had in his library to looking for something new entirely.

“Ya know, if you find yourself listenin’ to one band, in particular, I can try findin’ ya some concert footage.”

“Yeah?” Vang0 asked, and before he received a response, Buddy was by his side, asking him which songs he liked best and scouring the internet for videos of Vang0’s exact favorites. Anything to make him even a little happier it seemed. 

Soon Vang0’s YouTube history, which had started just after he’d created an email so he could subscribe to the artists he’d grown to like already, was filled with videos from decades ago to just last week of different artists playing different songs at different venues. His favorites were always the ones that included footage before the band started playing, where the lead singer would talk to the audience like they were friends of theirs, asking them excitedly if they were ready for the next song. Buddy insisted that watching recordings never compared to the real deal, to being there live and feeling the vibrations of the music shaking through you, but Vang0 swore he could feel the energy from the concert even just watching from his hospital bed. He could feel the excitement from the audience, hear their cheers like they were standing at the foot of his bed, calling out to him instead of whoever was getting ready to start playing on stage.

Even when Vang0 moved on to smaller bands on YouTube, most of which were ones Buddy insisted he check out because they were local bands, he always returned to those big lively concert videos. 

One of the bands he’d grown to like the most, a local one called M House, had a song of theirs covered by a small YouTuber whose channel Vang0 immediately fell in love with. It was all low production, sparsely edited videos of him singing alone in his room playing the keyboard, but Vang0 spent an entire day going through every one of his uploads. From there, he found a whole host of similar YouTube channels, all of them smaller creators singing songs they played on their keyboards and uploaded to YouTube from their bedrooms. Eventually, he stumbled across a channel dedicated to the keytar collection of a pink-haired YouTuber he immediately subscribed to, and then it was down the next rabbit hole filled with videos all about keytars. Soon he had an hours-long YouTube playlist filled with nothing but keytar performances.

He also found himself growing attached to the personalities behind the songs, the people who would film the videos, and share little parts of themselves with the internet in the process. Vang0 would scroll through endless comments filled with praise, reading conversations creators had with their viewers like they were captivating novels he couldn’t possibly put down.

This was it. This was something.

“You think you may wanna try all that out yourself once we’re outa here?” Buddy asked him one day. Once  _ we’re  _ outa here. He always talked about Vang0’s situation like Buddy was in the same position, like he couldn’t carry on with his life whenever he so chose. Vang0 couldn’t bring himself to ask about it for fear that it would lead to Buddy abandoning him there.

“What do you mean?” Vang0 asked as he paused a video by the latest vlogger he’d started binging. 

“All that video makin’ stuff where they talk and play to the camera,” Buddy said. 

“I don’t know,” Vang0 said. “They’ve all got so much… personality. I don’t think I could do it.”

“Sure you could. You’ve got buckets of personality! And besides, you like the ones who talk a whole bunch the same as the ones who just play their songs, right?”

Vang0 nodded.

“Well, then you can start doin’ that, and ease into other stuff whenever you feel like it.”

Vang0 paused for a moment before nodding again and starting up his video, which Buddy soon came to the side of his bed to watch with him.

After a few weeks, a nurse came in saying she had finally managed to get in contact with Vang0’s parents.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, they said they won’t be coming.”

After he heard that, Vang0 checked out, the nurse’s and Buddy’s voices floating in and out of his head as they the nurse went over specifics of her conversation with his parents. Who weren’t coming. They apparently had no interest in him.

Vang0 didn’t feel too torn up about it, he didn’t think. He didn’t know these people. They were strangers to him right now, so he shouldn’t be sad over them not coming to visit him, but before Vang0 could process it all Buddy was asking the nurse to leave the room and turning Vang0’s playlist back on and sitting on the floor beside his bed, telling the story of how he got his scar again. Vang0 was never able to sense when he was starting to cry before it was happening. Maybe that was something he used to know how to predict. Buddy always seemed to be the one to bring it to his attention when he was suddenly doing everything in his power to try and calm Vang0 down.

About a week later the doctor told Vang0 he’d finally be allowed to leave. He said that he was lucky that there wouldn’t be any permanent damage outside of his memory loss, that he’d be able to walk just fine after a few months of physical therapy. Vang0 didn’t feel lucky, but he didn’t feel as scared as he had when he first woke up after the accident. He felt like a real person again, memories or not. 

Buddy stayed glued to Vang0’s side the day he was discharged, not even leaving to get food from the cafeteria, and Vang0 knew how important breakfast was to Buddy. Every moment Vang0 found himself forcing thoughts of what was to come out of his head, forcing scenes of saying goodbye to Buddy and wandering into a world of unknown all alone. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t have more than a handful of memories where Buddy wasn’t around, and being with him constantly for over a month had made Vang0 very quickly grow attached to him. He was his only friend. And he would be going on with his life soon, now that Vang0 didn’t need him.

Vang0 knew they’d have to say their goodbyes at some point, but he kept putting it off. He didn’t do it in the morning when Buddy should have been loading everything into his van and getting ready to return to his life before that day in the diner. He didn’t do it when the doctor was going over the physical therapy and medication Vang0 would need once he left, which Buddy took notes on the entire time. He didn’t do it when a nurse helped him into his wheelchair, showing him how to operate it and telling Buddy how he could push it himself, not that he’d be around long to do so, Vang0 thought. 

As Buddy was helping Vang0 check out, he knew that now was the only time left to part ways, but he still couldn’t do it. Soon Buddy was pushing him out the front doors, into the warmth of the sunlight that Vang0 couldn’t remember feeling before then, but he couldn’t appreciate it as he tried to get the words building up in his throat to make there way out of his mouth.

“I figure sleepin’ in my van won’t be the best for ya while you’re still healin’, so I’ll get us a motel room or somethin’ until we can find a place of our own, at least one that’ll do for the time bein’.”

“You… what?”

“I’ll make sure we get a room someplace where the beds are decent, I swear on- I promise.”

“You want to get a place together?” Vang0 asked.

“Yeah! I mean if that’s alright with you. I get it if you’d rather go off on your own, maybe try findin’ out what your life was like before and all that.”

That’s what Vang0’s plan was That’s what he thought his plan had to be. He thought he’d be leaving this hospital alone.

“That sounds great.”

“Thank goodness! I was real worried you were gonna say no. You’re just about my only real good friend at the moment, ‘specially since I just moved and all.”

Vang0 couldn’t believe that. Buddy seemed like someone anyone would want to be friends with.

“Hey, I got an idea! We should go get your name changed!”

“What?” Vang0 said.

“Well, you’re startin’ new now, blank slate and everythin’. You should get a shiny new name to match! Plus it doesn’t seem like you’re particularly attached to the one you’ve got now anyway.”

Something about Buddy offering to get Vang0’s name changed felt like such a kind gesture to Vang0. Buddy didn’t care about Vang0’s past or lack thereof, and he was willing to do whatever he could to help Vang0 move on from it if he needed to.

“You’d come with me right?” Vang0 asked.

“‘Course I would! I’m considerin’ changin’ my name myself! I’m kinda startin’ fresh too, new city new me and all that.”

Vang0 smiled. “That sounds great then. Thank you.”

“No problem at all pal!”

And so the first thing they did after leaving the hospital was start brainstorming new names. Buddy made it clear almost immediately that he had no intention to stick with a conventional, or what Vang0 called boring, name. Vang0 wanted something unusual too. He thought it was only fitting with his less than normal circumstances. By the time they had settled on their names (and realized, to Vang0’s dismay, that you could not have numbers in your legal name) Vang0 felt more himself than he could remember. 

Burger and Vang0. That felt right. That felt familiar already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy, it took me longer to write this chapter than I thought. Sorry, it got finished so much later than I anticipated. This time I'm gonna be smart and not predict when I'll have the next one finished because if I do I'll probably jinx myself. The next couple will be about how Vang0 and Dasha met and became friends and I'm excited to write them even if it ends up taking a while. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter :4).  
> If you want to you can follow me on tumblr @ peach-p0t, sometimes I talk about my fics there but mostly I just reblog polygon and sanders sides stuff.


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